One Summer In Maine

by Mardee Louise Prynne

  

PART ONE

GETTING THERE

  

The volume on the high fi was just right. I swirled the Jack Daniel's around in the old fashioned glass. The drapes were open and the window blinds up. Just enough of the June air drifted through the slightly open window. The room darkened as the sun faded and the lights over in Manhattan clicked on like so many stars in the evening sky.

Her incredibly subtle smile fixed my attention to the framed photo of my last great love. My life's work seemed more and more to be reflecting on my last great love. Lots of last great loves in my past. How many ahead?

I never had one end like that one. A car wreck on a quiet road in Dorset in England! This was one love that seemed to be working. Well sort of, in an on and off way. She had grown restless and I felt she was ambivalent about staying together. Then one day she came home with a grin on her face. "We're going to be mum and dad " Our love affair took off again until the accident a few weeks later. I was bereft over the loss of my lover and of our child.

The autopsy report indicated she was not pregnant! Mavis had been lying to herself that she was, I'm sure of that much. I knew she had grown restless and was ready to call it off. Convincing herself she was pregnant may have been her way of finding a reason to stay together. Weird, hey? I was left with the sneaking suspicion that Mavis did herself in. Life can be a bitch.

My business affairs in England took a while to complete. I was an expert at authenticating art works. Lots of work for me with sorting out art work that had been looted by the Nazis. I also enjoyed giving occasional lectures on art history. It was at one of these that Mavis stayed on to ask some questions. We finished our chat in a wine bar near the Tate. The relationship that began that night ended with the car crash in 1973. Here it was 1975 and I was alone again in Brooklyn. Seems I started here a long time ago... At least now I had this neat sublet in Brooklyn Heights. The phone interrupted my self-pitying reveries.

"Terri, you're probably the only one on earth I wouldn't be pissed off at for breaking in on my thoughts..."

"Just don't hold back," laughed the girl from high school who understood me better than anyone and who had been my best friend ever since. Neither of us ever understood why we never had an affair. Then again, why ruin a great friendship?

"Matt, I need you to bail me out of a tight spot. If I don't get someone to do a series of lectures during the summer session I'll have to do it myself.

"You were meant to be an academic. Getting people excited about art and music is your calling. Besides you'll love this town. Not that far from Boston so it's not exactly the Styx.

"Matt, I'm telling you the emmes (a Yiddish word generally translated as truth but having more emphasis. Once a popular expression with certain of New York City intelligentsia.) You'll love it here. There are all sorts of surprising people. The emmes! Besides I need you to help me out. There's this bright and talented grad student who's spending the summer near P-town. (P-town: still a spoken abbreviation of Provincetown, Massachusetts at the tip of Cape Cod. It has long been and remains a very comfortable retreat for gay men and women.) She is so talented, so clever...I can't lie to you Matt. I really want to get into her panties."

Terri's hungry description of the grad student's body and cute dimples reminded me why we never did become lovers.

"And besides, Matt, you owe me."

I remembered that Terri was the first in our high school's arty bohemian set to accept me when I was the guy from the wrong kind of family. She sensed my hunger for the transcendent splendor of art and of music. Terri helped me discover the wealth of museums in New York. I really did owe her.

"You got it, Terri."

"Matt, I love you. You know where I leave the key to my house. I haven't changed that arrangement since high school. You remember, right?"

"How can I forget? I crashed at your house pretty often. Did your parents really never suspect I was there all night?"

"Not sure. I think they were hoping I would take an interest in guys.

"Matt, I'll send you maps of the area and directions to my house. You're going to love it. And there's a faculty tenure track job if you want it after the summer. Really! I shit you not one ounce." For a woman with a Ph.D. living the academic life, she had a pretty down to earth mouth!

 

I pointed the antique Jaguar Mark VII toward Boston. Mavis's picture was on the seat next to me. A two night stay at the Parker House gave me a chance to poke around the Museum of Fine Arts. Time well spent. An excursion into Cambridge where I found a restaurant and bakery combined in one store front. Lots of attractive girls and women who would have paid more attention to Terri than to me or any guy. I wondered how many of those girls started out as guys. Seemed to be two types here. The real girls who were into each other and the trannie girls who were into everyone!

My mind wandered back to Randi. She was a minor league jazz pianist I played bass for. She really turned me on. Discovering she was a 24/7 trannie didn't turn me off in the least. Randi left me a note saying that leaving was so painful for her but that she understood I had goals that I could never meet if we stayed together. She was right but no way did I believe she was being altruistic. She just wanted to move on to lovers who could support her in the style to which she wanted to become accustomed. (See the short story, "The Audition " in the collection "Four Play" by Mardee Louise Prynne. Available from Mags, Inc.)

I stopped for breakfast at the place in Cambridge on my way out of the Boston area. I sat at a table while I enjoyed a brioche and coffee. The breakfast was self-service, cafeteria style. I spread out the directions Terri had sent me and indulged in a refill of coffee compliments of a sort of waitress whose primary purpose seemed to be to keep the customers coffee cups full.

She seemed pleased that I understood the ground rules and didn't try to flirt. Saving herself for the right girl, I thought. Lucky will be the girl who gets this lovely.

The place was filling up when I noticed a pretty girl with dark brown hair and huge brown eyes that reminded me of a frightened doe caught in the headlights of a car. She held a tray and looked for a place to set it down. Her lipstick, her nail polish, and her toe nail polished matched. I wondered if she was the type whose bra and panties always matched. Wow, I'm beginning to get over Mavis!

She wore a grayish blue skort and a pink tee. Flat sandals with thong ties showed her perfect feet to advantage. I tapped her wrist as she walked past, pulled my papers together and said "Please sit down. No obligation to make small talk. Besides I'm about to leave."

"That's awfully nice of you. Please don't leave on my account."

She put her plate and teacup on the table, returned her tray to the appropriate stand and sat down. This brown haired lovely took a book from her bag and started to read, highlighting important passages. Nietzsche's "Also Spracht Zarathustra." Heavy stuff for so early in the day. Still, I was impressed.

The doe eyed one took a break long enough to spread marmalade on her whole grain toast. She noticed my papers. "Are you going to be at Bardwin? I was up there in April. Super place, the town, the school. I'm hoping to transfer there."

"I'll be lecturing there in art history this summer. I may take a position if things work out." I marveled at my openness with this lovely stranger. I'm usually closed mouthed especially with people I don't know.

"That is so neat."

"Neatsy keen!" I went one up on her preppie exclamation.

"Now you're teasing me." She smiled and lit up the room. "But you're not mean, I can tell these things. And I sense you've been hurt by a cruel fate. There's something so beautifully romantic and tragic about you...I'm sorry if I'm being too familiar." She blushed.

"You're right about a recent hurt. Not all that recent though. And it was fate. I'm impressed. Odd that a girl who studies Nietzsche feels the aura of someone she's just met.

"Please feel free to look me up if you get to Bardwin this summer. If your friends are as impressive as you, I might just take the full time job. And I'm not teasing."

I started to gather my papers.

"And whom am I looking up?"

"Dr. Loren. Matt Loren. And who'll be looking me up?"

"Sara Ann Lev."

I rose to leave. "Bye Sara Ann. Nice chatting with you. Thanks."

"We'll meet again," she smiled confidently.

 

New Hampshire disappeared under my tires in what seemed like no time. I crossed the bridge into Maine. I swung over to Route 1 as soon as I reached the lower part of what the locals call mid-coast. The town of Bardwin lay a several miles west of Rte. 1 about half way up mid-coast. Easy enough to find and along good roads. Terri was right about being a couple hours from Boston, especially if you knew the way. So far so good.

The main street of Bardwin was a double wide thoroughfare with a pedestrian island with benches running down the middle. Nice shops catered to summer people and to the academic community. It was a little too far west of the coast to be inundated with summer people but close enough that there would plenty of cheap "lobstah." Restaurants ranged from pubby to exotic ethnic. I noticed the cafe or coffee shop with its new age symbols in the windows. Folk music at night. Fine with me. Fits with my bohemian high school and college days.

I decided to have lunch at one the pubs. No problem finding a parking space. I chose one a few doors down from the pub and almost directly in front of the cafe. A few student types shared the side walk tables with summer people. A Jeep Wrangler pulled in a few spaces in back of me. A petite, sun tanned blonde with cropped hair slid from the driver's seat affording me a display of full calves above beautifully sculpted ankles. As she straightened up, her flower print sun dress fell back down her thighs. Darn, I was hoping for a longer show. She reached in the back and grabbed a pile of printed sheets bound together by a rubber band. No surprise that she went to the cafe. Copies of the sheet were passed out to all and sundry. The girl gave the remainder to the waitress who brought them inside. "Got to get to work. I promised I would waitress a double shift today."

Her destination told me I was really in a rural area. She went into the Chinese restaurant across the street. When white girls are waitressing in a Chinese restaurant, you know you're far from any big city. I made a note to try the restaurant as soon as I could; tonight would be just fine.

 

My eyes adjusted to the dim light of the pub. The hostess had just seated a double pair of summer people. I watched her guide them to a table in the dining room. She wore a beige slip dress that flowed over her hips. Her suntanned legs needed no hose to emphasize their beauty. A French braid called attention to her jet black hair; blacker than I had ever seen on a white woman. She was even more attractive when she turned toward me. The shape of her face and her choice of earrings showed a significant portion of American Indian blood flowed through her veins. Her speech was the slow drawl Mainers are known for. I opted for a table near the bar; the better to watch this lovely's comings and goings.

There must be something in the water in this town that makes the women so attractive. The waitress, another native Mainer by her accent, was as attractive but in a very different way. Her dark hair and large brown eyes suggested Mediterranean ancestry. She had a friendly smile. I asked what they had on tap. "Harp, Bass, Guiness...we also have Bud but you don't strike me as a Bud drinker." The second time today that a pretty girl correctly sensed something about me!

She served me a Bass and a ploughman's lunch. She chatted amiably when time allowed. "I hope you're here to teach at Bardwin."

"Yes, I am. But why do you say that?"

"Just seems that so many of the really nice, really polished folks are going over to Brunswick to teach at Bowdoin. Ayuh. Seems to me that they get all the good people."

"Well thanks for the compliment."

"I'm sorry if I'm being overly familiar. Don't mean to be forward."

"No, not at all. Please don't apologize. Your openness and interest in me really make me feel welcome."

"That's so kind of you to say so. Where are you going to be staying?"

"An old friend of mine is lending me her house for the summer. She's on the Bardwin faculty."

"That has to be Terri Cohen!"

"Bullseye!"

"She's your friend! Great woman! I'm in a support group she runs for townies. We really have to sit down and talk about Terri...and about you of course."

Two things about this girl that struck me at that instant. Her accent faded when she got excited and she was older than I thought when I first looked at her. She was somewhere between thirty and thirty-five although she initially impressed as mid twenties. I was definitely attracted to this olive skinned knock-out. Her age made her a more reasonable focus of possible romantic predation.

Her excited chatter brought me back to the moment.

"There I go again being so forward. For all I know you're in a relationship or else you may not want to spend time talking with a girl who barely finished high school...

"I'm sorry. This must be making you feel uncomfortable. Taylor, she's the hostess, just seated two tables in my station. Let's get together though."

In between taking care of her tables she introduced her self as Genie Dee. "The Dee is really my last initial. Di Napoli just doesn't cut it here."

I was really taken with this woman. She was on the shorter side of average with narrow shoulders, a tiny waist and a cute little tush that strained the fabric of her slacks and showed the lines of her panty briefs. Her shoulder length dark hair was pulled back from her face by a white headband exposing her pierced ears with gold hoop earrings. Despite her almost prideful admission that she barely finished high school, she spoke well. Grammar, vocabulary, and diction, at least when she wasn't laying on the down east accent for the summer people, were all a cut above the ordinary. Her wrists and forearms, although not massive, suggested she worked out or engaged in sports regularly.

Genie took the folder into which I had put money for the meal along with a generous tip. She pressed my hand in her surprisingly soft, gentle fingers. "Please call again. We would love to see more of you."

 

I looked around the street as I walked back to the car. Yep, I was getting over Mavis. The connection between Genie and Terri puzzled me. What kind of support group was Terri was running that Genie was into? Friendships with lesbians were a part of my life and Terri was one special friend. I just didn't want my feelings hurt by going after someone who was totally unable to feel the same kind of attraction for me that that I felt for her.

Well, if not Genie there was always a chance of finding the cropped haired blonde who drove the Jeep Wrangler.

 

There was no difficulty finding Terri's house. It was a comfortable Queen Anne house sitting across from the campus and backing on a wide turn of the river. It sat high enough on a knoll to be safe from flooding. I pulled into the driveway, parked and walked around to the back of the house. Bingo! The key was under an urn of impatiens. Some habits never change.

I let myself in by the side door. A note taped to the kitchen table advised me that Terri had filled the fridge for me before she left. I would be using a guest room at the back end of the upstairs hall. The attached bathroom would afford me privacy when Terri returned and began entertaining overnight guests. She even gave me directions to her panty drawer "just in case you still want to pursue your secret fetish from high school." Terri was really going all out to make me feel welcome.

The phone rang. "Hi Matt. Genie here. Sorry to be so forward. You must be tired from the drive. How about if I come over in the morning and make you breakfast? We can take a walk and I'll show you Bardwin.

"Please say no if you feel I'm crowding you. I don't know what's wrong with me; it's just that I don't usually come on to people so quickly and so intensely."

"Genie, I'm glad you called. I would have had no way of getting in touch with you. I know how you feel. Chalk it up to chemistry.

"Give me a chance to nap and then shave and shower. Maybe we could do dinner. How is that Chinese place?"

"Quite good. I appreciate the invitation but I have to work. I'll be by to make you breakfast. When will you be ready for me?"

"Eight-thirty?"

"See you then."

 

To my surprise, I felt pleased that Genie turned down my dinner invitation. She was attractive and different from most women I had known over the last decade or so. During the short time I had been with Genie it never occurred to me that I might have more in common with Sara Ann Lev when and if she ever got to Bardwin. Now I had a chance to reflect, it seemed to me that the animal attraction I felt for Genie might be a poor foundation for even a summer fling assuming I don't want to stay here.

If I knew Terri at all she would almost certainly expect me to be free to meet the straight women in her circle. Despite her lifelong lesbian orientation there was enough Jewish mother in her that she would try to fix me up with what she considered a girl worthy of all that I had to offer. That always amused me. I really didn't have that much to offer over the long haul. A string of bad affairs taught me that.

I guess I was attractive to certain women. I was middle height, slim and had longish dark hair; the stereotypical art lover or classical musician look. My clothing style was modified preppie; tan twills and oxford cloth shirts or golf shirts. I made good money and was generous. Unfortunately I got involved with lovers who were bizarre or who treated me like shit. Seemed I was drawn to weird ones who broke my heart. I was incapable of staying in a relationship or even getting one going with a stable, down to earth woman. Perhaps I should start listening to Terri.

I opted for dinner alone at the Chinese place. It was more to see the waitress than for anything I might find on the menu. It was a short walk from Terri's to the small downtown commercial area. I took my time and wandered around the campus. Most of the buildings were post World War II but designed to look like an early nineteenth century New England school.

The shops on the main avenue beckoned along with my appetite. Was it for good Chinese food or to strike up an acquaintance with a doll? To my chagrin I noticed a rainbow colored inverted triangle sticker on the rear of the Jeep Wrangler. It wasn't so recognizable back then but I knew it meant the owner of the vehicle was gay or lesbian. Bummer.

The place was moderately busy with dinner hour just about done. The blonde I had seen get out of the Jeep earlier greeted me at the door and seated me in a quiet booth. "I 'm sorry we're a little backed up tonight," she said as she put a menu in front of me. "Can I buy you a drink while you wait? We're only licensed to sell beer and wine"

"Very gracious of you. Thanks. House white will do."

It was a pretty hefty pour and I felt badly that it might be coming out of her pay. I noticed she, like Genie, was older than first appearances might have suggested. She was probably late twenties although she could have passed for anywhere from sixteen up. Her hands were like a child's right down to the beaded bracelet she wore. The rainbow pattern confirmed she was the owner of the Jeep outside.

She was a doll. Fair porcelain skin, almost certainly natural blond hair and the green eyes of a cat. Her pointy chin made her face less than flawless but more interesting for furthering her catlike appearance.

She returned a short time later to take my order. Hot and sour soup, and scallion pancakes. I wasn't really hungry now that I studied the menu. I ordered a small carafe of white wine and prepared to eat slowly while I studied this attractive and feline like creature.

"You're staying at Dr. Cohen's. Genie told me when she came by on her break. I noticed you when I was dropping off the dance recital fliers at the cafe. I'm Claire Lassitter. Welcome to Bardwin. Good to see some new men here."

I was flattered but a little confused. Why would a gay woman, however exotically beautiful, want more men in the area? It was never part of my ego trip to think that a lesbian would suddenly turn straight if she were to have sex with me. Still, I was flattered by her warm and apparently sincere attention.

The meal was good and the wine was right for it. I ate leisurely to both savor the food and in the hope that Claire would chat some more. It turned out she would be auditing some of my lectures. I sensed she harbored some resentment against Genie for coming in. She made it sound as though Genie had been in to warn her about getting too close to me! Odd since the feline doll displayed her lesbian identification on her Jeep and on her wrist.

 

PART TWO

A VERY BRIEF ENCOUNTER

 

Genie was up early the next morning. She drove out to the next town, a little more in the mainstream than Bardwin. Early mass. She wanted to take Communion but hadn't been to Confession for a few weeks. Next stop was the grocery store. Eggs, bacon, fresh bread. She would bring some blueberry jam she made the previous fall.

She returned to her apartment where she showered and washed her hair. The towel was tied around her like a sarong as he rubbed her hair with a smaller towel. The sarong opened and slipped from the slender but solid frame. Genie laughed to herself as she looked in the mirror. "Good, grief! My tits can't even hold up a towel. I used to be so embarrassed by them." She ran her fingers over the cone shaped nipples that thrust forward from what could have been the burgeoning breasts of twelve or fourteen year old. "Then I found so many guys really prefer small to those silly looking cows. After all, more than a mouthful is superfluous. I've taken so many guys away from those self-satisfied stacked bitches and then I've had the supreme joy of breaking their hearts and destroying them in the best ways possible."

Genie frowned before she continued her reverie. "Oh God, I wish it could be different. How many people do I have to hurt before I undo the humiliation I suffered?

Coming up here hasn't made it any different; not inside me anyhow."

She pulled a white padded bra from her drawer. A pair of navy blue cotton hip hugger panties could have been appropriately wholesome yet very sensual on a fifteen year old or on a forty year old. Holding the panties in front of her, Genie turned them front side forward, lowered them to her ankles and gingerly stepped into them. Pulling them up over her legs she turned to adjust the back over her firm and curvy if not overly endowed tush.

The bra pushed her small breasts into almost perfect orbs. She adjusted the straps and settled her breasts in the cups to her best advantage. The smile was back on Genie's face as sat at the vanity brushing her dark hair until it gleamed. She paused before she had finished and slipped a pink cotton scoop neck tee over her head and pulled it down over her body. She finished brushing her hair. A plastic tortoise shell band pulled her hair from her face. Eye-liner and lipstick were all the makeup this dark beauty would use or need.

Opening her jewelry box, she selected the gold crucifix that had been her grandmother's. Despite her unchristian attitude of constantly seeking to hurt people in an endless chain of vindictiveness for the hurts and slights inflicted on her as a child and as a teen, Genie maintained emotional and possibly spiritual ties to the Roman Catholicism of her childhood. It was a lifeline that kept her tethered to the reality that all her childhood years weren't a nightmare.

The tan twill wrap around skirt barely covered her knees. She practiced teasing, flashing her panties as she pulled on the lace cuffed anklets. White Keds tennis sneakers. One ring, a narrow band gold wrist watch. She transferred what she needed to a tiny leather shoulder bag, slung across her chest, took the groceries from the fridge, and was on her way to take control over the new guy in town.

 

Matt ran down the stairs in response to the knocking at the kitchen door. He had just finished shaving; a close shave that left his face as smooth and as cool as a baby's bottom. He was splashing on witch hazel when he heard Genie's tapping at the door.

Her knock had been deliberately soft, soft enough that Matt might not readily hear. Then he would be feel awkward about having kept Genie waiting with the groceries she had selected to please him. She had planned to smile at him; a forgiving but knowing smile that said he had kept her waiting.

Genie hadn't reckoned that Matt would hear the soft knock through an open window just above the kitchen door and not through the house. Step one had failed but that was only the first salvo in her plan of attack.

Matt opened the door in his Bermuda shorts with his shirt in his hand. "Wow, early." Genie marveled at her adversary's very lean but athletic build. She put her finger tips to his cheek and purred. "Mmm, what a smoothie! Always shave so closely or are you expecting an important visitor?" It wasn't part of her plan but she couldn't help letting her finger tips glide down his smooth, firm, hairless chest. She felt Matt's nerves vibrate as she ran her experienced hand over his tiny nipples.

"You tell me if I was expecting an important guest. She's standing in the doorway right now but I think she's important enough to come on inside."

He reached for the bag as Genie stepped forward. She put her hand behind his head and guided his lips to her opening mouth. Despite his need for caution, Matt started to respond. Genie felt his cock stiffening as she pressed against him.

She pulled away for two reasons. Her original intent had been to get Matt interested, aroused. It would be the first step in taking control of him. That was reason number one.

Reason number two was that she felt a craving she had not felt in years and years. She knew that she would be unfulfilled if she could not give herself over to Matt to respond to all his desires, all his passions. Genie, too, would want Matt to make her needs his own., to share sex of every kind until they would lie exhausted in each other's arms. Then, in the tender caresses of their weariness, they would open each other's hearts and souls as they had opened their bodies and their lusts.

That doesn't happen to Genie Di Napoli. No, not now. Not ever! Genie Di Napoli is never, ever going to be hurt; not emotionally, not physically! Genie is the one who hurts, the one who punishes for the way she was hurt, for the way that narrow little world into which she had been born punished for things that were not her doing. It punished her for things that helpless child didn't choose, for things she would have changed if she could have. But that was then. Genie learned to accept those things, to exult in them. Once they were her shame but now they were triumph, her glory, and her jubilation. And Matt Loren was going to regret having aroused her old sense of vulnerability.

Genie violently cracked the eggs into the copper bowl as the pan heated. A flutter in her belly as Matt tucked his shirt into the waist band of his shorts. A tingle swept through her crotch as she caught a glimpse of the top of his black bikini underpants. She imagined the contour of his cock and of his balls in the stretchy black fabric. She wanted to run her fingertips over his cock and then sink her nails into his tender skin. Her knee would rocket into his balls as he realized he was at her mercy.

Her mouth went dry. Yes, she wanted to hurt Matt emotionally and physically but she also wanted to pleasure him even as he submitted to her desires. This time it was different! She wanted to hold Matt, to comfort him, to be comforted and consoled by him. She bit her cheek to keep back the tears. Genie admitted to herself that she was frightened, frightened that she might actually feel fondness and affection if she let herself go, let herself draw close to the man she had chosen as the latest target of her rage..

Breakfast done, Matt insisted on rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. They would finish coffee on the back deck.

They sat on the steps looking at the river. Hummingbirds fed on the red salvia around the deck. Genie rested her head on Matt's shoulder. He turned slightly and smelled her hair. It was not quite a kiss that Genie gave Matt, not exactly. She faced him, rubbed her nose over his and let her lips brush lightly over his. She slid away from the man who had so quickly upset her usual pattern of conquest and domination.

Genie's back rested against the newel, one leg rested on the steps, the other gradually extended in front of her along the edge of the deck. She seemed to be gazing toward the river but a furtive glance told her that Matt was focused on the vee of her panties now plainly visible under the hem of the skirt. She had his attention.

"Like what you see?" A matter of fact but very provocative question. Genie's serious, almost admonishing look turned slowly into a warm inviting smile. She set her coffee cup on the deck, swung her knees together and then without supporting herself, effortlessly stood facing Matt. She fanned her skirt to remove any folds that had formed while giving Matt another liberal view of her bountifully filled panties.

"Yes, as a matter of act I do like what I see." Matt rose to his feet.

Genie took his hand in hers as they started toward the river. Genie pressed against Matt as they walked. She draped his arm around her small waist so that his hand rested on her the peak of her hip bone. They paused long to watch some birds on the river bank. Genie somehow guided Matt's hand over her bottom. She made sure he felt the hem of her panties through the cotton skirt. She felt his breath catch in his chest as he felt the cleft of between her firm cheeks.

"Mmm. You're pretty firm. Dance lessons?"

"Something like that."

Genie glanced around and saw that they were secure from any prying neighbors and from any casual boaters by the trees and shrubs that defined the boundary of the property. She faced Matt and kissed him deeply as she unfastened his fly. She eased his trousers over his hips as he responded to her probing tongue. His trousers slipped lower on his legs as Genie stepped back, caught the top of his hand and twisted violently spilling him over onto his side. She held his wrist as she stepped over him and applied pressure.

Then the unexpected occurred. Matt slipped off his loafers, kicked loose from the pants that could have hobbled him in the ensuing struggle, rolled with the pressure to loosen the hold and kicked Genie's feet from under her!

Matt got to his feet as Genie rushed at him like a Fury out of hell. Catching Matt under his arm, she rolled him over hip and onto the grass. He got to his hands and knees as Genie pounced on his back and grabbed his chin with her hands. She drove her weight onto his back as she pulled back on his chin. Matt went down his face under the force of the muscular amazon's weight.

Genie released her hold and knelt along aside Matt. She reached between his legs and grabbed his balls in a vice like grip thus gaining control of the object of her passion! Genie leaned forward and kissed her victim. He responded as she pushed him onto his back. She rolled on top of him and held him in a grapevine hold as she kissed every part of his face and neck. Straddling his chest, she moved to a schoolgirl pin as, reaching behind her, she grabbed his balls once more. His rock-hard cock had slipped over the waist band of his bikini pants!

Suddenly Matt bridged, kipped, and dumped Genie onto her back. Now he straddled the writhing spitfire. Her face reached up and again kissed she her adversary. She pushed Matt away only to be allow herself room unbutton her blouse. She pulled her bra up over her erect nipples and guided her lover's face to them. Reaching down, she slid Matt's bikini pants over his hips and maneuvered to give her mouth ready access to Matt's cock. Her tongue darted over the pee slit as she greedily took his precum.

They were now in a sixty-nine position. Genie's skirt was around her waist as Matt struggled to lower her panties. He wanted to taste her as she tasted him.

"God, no, no!" screeched Genie. "Soon but not now! Please, please!" Then as suddenly as her resistance emerged, it vanished as she lifted her hips and yanked her panties down. Her cock, now as hard as her lovers, sprang free!

"Go ahead, run away. Run away... you shit! They all do!"

Matt kissed the tip of Genie's very adequate cock, took the beautiful trannie in his arms and kissed her deeply, tenderly as his hand caressed her tight balls. "No, doll, I'm not running way!"

He kissed her for what seemed an eternity as he fondled her breasts, teased her nipples. Matt licked Genie's precum from her fingers as she touched her own pee slit and then put her finger to his lips.

They kissed each other's navels, inner thighs until they were tonguing each other's cock. Suddenly both convulsed and made incoherent sounds that so eloquently announced their ecstatic climax. They throbbed and arched as they pumped gob after gob of cum into each other's hungry mouths.

A cum soaked kiss as they lay on their sides.

"Now why on earth would I want to run way and why would you want me to?" Matt asked Genie. She shrugged as her hand reached for her lover's balls.

"They almost always do...but I've learned to make them pay my price. God, how I hate them all." She leaned her face over Matt's and kissed him. She teasingly pulled back before she opened her mouth and covered Matt's. "But you're going to be different. I just know you are...Damn!" Genie leapt to her feed and paced like a caged beast; the beast that was her anger was growing restless.

Mat lay on his back with his hand behind his head. Genie reclined on her side, propping herself on her elbow. The finger tips of her free hand glided so lightly over Matt's skin that she almost didn't touch him. He closed his eyes and yielded to her tender stroking. Suddenly he drew a sharp breath as she smilingly raked her nails over his chest. She was on her knees now, one knee almost at the vee of his crotch. She grasped his balls, driving her finger nails into the soft skin of his scrotum. Maintaining her hold on her lover's sensitive skin, she fell forward pressing her firm breasts against his chest. She tongued his neck, his ear.

Genie suddenly released her grip and rolled off Matt. She sat with her knees against her chest and sobbed softly. "Matt, Matt, damn you. You've made me fall for you...fall for you with no conditions. I don't know what the hell to do!

"I swore that I would never let any man make me love him. I was supposed to be punishing men for treating me like a freak when I was a kid! My teens were hell. Girls were just as wicked to me but...Oh, hell! Why am I try to explain what I don't understand." Her sobbing was deeper, more intense.

"Damn you, Matt! Why couldn't this have happened before I forgot how to love, before I learned to feel nothing but hate?...Matt I want to love you. Help me. help me...Please help me."

The self-appointed avenging angel dissolved into tears.

Matt picked up the weeping trannie and carried her back to the deck of Terri's house. He lay her on chaise lounge and dashed back to fetch their clothes. The emotionally distraught and exhausted Genie was asleep when he returned.

After slipping on his bikini pants, Matt sat looking at Genie. Her nude figure left no doubt that she was not a genetic girl yet her narrow waist, her tapering hips, her small but clearly real breasts created an aura that made Matt doubt what he was seeing.

The rational part of him told him to get out of this now. His libido made him believe that somehow he and Genie would have a beautiful affair. Wake up, asshole," he told himself. "This poor girl is as mad as they get. Back off now."

 

Matt sat back on a chair watching Genie stir occasionally in her sleep. She stretched those gorgeous legs, pointed her toes and sat up slowly. "Did that really happen, Matt? I'm not sure if it was real or a dream or... a nightmare."

Matt sat on the edge of the chaise lounge stroking Genie's mane of dark hair as she rested her head on his thigh. "Why a nightmare?"

"Please try to understand. I was always the sissy boy, the little faggot, the fruit. I was teased and humiliated by boys and girls. I was an embarrassment to my family except for my nonna. My sole purpose for existence became to take men away from their female lovers, to beat them up, make them long for me and then reveal to them what I really am. It was fun at first but it overwhelmed my existence. Matt, you messed me up. I wanted you simply as a trophy. I would be the first girl in Bardwin to have the new man in town.
"I don't want to bore you with my petty shit. I'm thinking about leaving Bardwin, going to a city where I can get in therapy. I've got a good possibility... make some real money. Don't worry about me being a trannie whore. That's not for me. There are easier and more fun ways for a budding S&M freak like me to make big dollars. This episode as a working girl didn't do me any good in the least.

"I'll be okay. Tomorrow I'm going down to Boston to see about a...a job. If things go well tomorrow I'll be giving notice and getting out of town. I could have loved you, Matt. It's not you, it's just that I'm so full of hate that I can't risk loving or being loved."

Genie was dressing as she rattled on. She pulled Matt to his feet, pressed her face against his and kissed him as she fondled his balls.

"Good-bye and I mean good-bye! Stay the hell away from me...for both our sakes."

Matt watched her get in her car and drive off. "Well that made it easy for me. So beautiful and so mad. What a waste."

He walked down to the river where Terri had a small dock. He slipped into the river and swam leisurely. His brief experience with Genie was disconcerting and left him with an unsettled feeling about Bardwin. He had enough respect and affection for Terri to know that there had to be more to Bardwin than the madness of Genie. Didn't Sara Ann Lev speak well of the town and of the school? That lovely girl with an attractive style that said 'academic life' was a pretty sharp person. How could she be wrong in her impressions?

He would give Bardwin more time. There were still some questions as he swam through the cool clear river.

What possible connection could the mad, hateful Genie have to Claire?

"Where's Terri when I need her to put things in order for me?"

 

Matt slipped into his Bermudas and shirt. The walk into town was relaxed and refreshing. He had noticed a newsstand/stationery shop on the main avenue yesterday. Luck was with him. The shop was open. He ran his eye over the magazines. Nothing too risqué. A New York paper, a couple of Toblerone candy bars, and a road atlas of Maine and New Hampshire. The counter girl gave him a friendly smile observing that he didn't seem like "summer people."

He noticed that it was close to one o'clock. A shady table in front of the cafe would suit him just fine. He ordered a turkey sandwich with tomatoes, Swiss cheese, and Russian dressing. He sipped a large lemonade while he waited for his sandwich. Rather than read the paper, he opted to watch people as they passed by. It was easy enough to separate the relatively few summer people from the locals and the academic community with its assorted hangers on. This town might yet turn out to be comfortable and comforting for a sojourn, however long or short.

The sandwich was delightfully fresh and larger than what might expect in an arty cafe. The one disappointment was that Claire never showed.

The conversation at the next table caught his attention.

"I just hope that lunatic takes whatever job she thinks she has in Boston and gets out of town. She's just so bitter..."

"It's like she's just so angry inside that she finds people and things to blame it on. It's her and nothing else. Just so much sappy self-pity masquerading as strength."

"Her stories of vengeance are just so much hot air. Her sick fantasies are what they are. I just hope she can get into therapy."

"Never mind her. It'll be so therapeutic for this whole town if she goes."

"Poor Genie. Thinks she's so dangerous. Really so pathetic."

Matt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This group was confirming his impressions of Genie. "Good thing she was the one who said good-bye. She would have been hell to get rid of if she had decided she wanted a relationship. What a waste though. So pretty and so well equipped."

"Dessert or coffee, sir?"

He noticed the server for the first time. An off white polo shirt, tailored navy Jamaica shorts, white ankle socks and Keds. Long, elegant fingers. Fine bones in the fair, suntanned face. Lips a thin but perfect Cupid bow Green eyes and auburn hair that teased the turned up collar. Small waist and adequate but not full hips and tush. So beautiful and so wasted on the waiter for it was a waiter and not a waitress!

This morning had been Matt's first gay encounter in more than two decades. It was all the more exciting and all the more satisfying for being taboo, forbidden. It allowed him to appreciate the beauty of the young waiter in ways that he wouldn't have a few days ago. He studied this androgynous boy as he bent to pick up a fallen menu. Panty lines clearly showed through the shorts. The tell tale curve of the reinforced crotch piece made it clear that this exquisite and graceful boy was wearing panties.

Matt sipped a double espresso. The regulars at the cafe seemed interesting but none so fascinating as the waiter. He called for a check. "Thank you and call again, please. Noel" had written in flowing, precise script that suggested the legendary Catholic school handwriting. Noel's hand brushed Matt's wrist as he placed the check on the table, as he took the payment, and as he gave Matt his change.

Despite the exertions of the morning Matt felt a stirring in his loins as he admired the enchanting face and figure of Noel. His heart leapt in his chest when Noel's fingers touched his. It was with a rapidly beating pulse that Matt left the cafe. He was delighted Noel had gone out of his way to thank him as he left.

Matt took a few boxes of papers from the Jag and arranged them in the alcove of his bedroom that would serve as a study. He started arranging the notes for his first lecture which would be an overview of the beginnings of the impressionist movement. It was to be given to a mixed group of non-matrics, summer pupils, and the entering freshman who were taking Bardwin's mandatory cultural backgrounds courses before starting their credit work at the send of the summer. That last requirement didn't say much for the liberal arts backgrounds the high schools had given these kids.

Periodically pausing to stare out the window at the garden and the river beyond

was soothing. He allowed himself the luxury of thinking about Noel who was elegant, exquisite, and graceful. He couldn't help but compare Claire with her catlike prettiness, her feline ease to the slender boy who had evoked reactions that he hadn't felt since Mavis. Claire was out about her sexual orientation. No reason to make a move. Why lose a potential friend?

Noel was an enigma. Was he straight? "Sure as hell can turn me one no matter what he is!," Matt confessed to himself. "No reason to rush anything. Just got here. Terri's right. So many unusual and fascinating people in this town."

He stripped down to his bikini underpants and relaxed on the bed. He drifted into sleep as he visualized Noel and Claire, Claire and Noel.

 

PART THREE

First Lecture, Questions Raised

 

He placed his papers on the desk, wrote his name on the chalkboard and turned to face the class seated in tiers in the lecture amphitheater. His eye roamed across each row. The lower tiers were filled with entering freshmen. Mostly girls, most nicely dressed. Many wore knee length a-line skirts that were preppie enough but managed to show a lot of thigh while still being lady like. He liked that effect. It struck him that many of the boys sat in a rather effeminate manner. Most of them were able to carry it off effortlessly.

He realized he liked that too.

His eye took in the far corner of the second tier. Few attendees sat at the ends of the first tier. Doing so would have distorted their view of the screen on which slides of paintings and so on would be shown. Claire sat on the periphery of the second tier. She wore a yellow tank top that showed her bra straps. Her flowing print skirt revealed her sandal clad feet with their coral nail polish. A thrill akin to his reaction to Noel swept through him as he watched her rest her pencil against her lip. She smiled slightly when she realized he was looking at her. A very subtle wave of her hand as Matt tilted his head toward her and returned her smile.

There was a minor stir as an almost latecomer entered the lecture hall and sat down next to Claire. It was Noel. The androgynous lovely wore beige shorts that were just long enough to be considered Jamaica shorts. Great legs with finely chiseled ankles and curvy thighs. A baby blue polo was opened to show enough skin to see that Noel's chest was as smooth and as hairless as his superb legs. Claire picked up her pocketbook and her notebook from the seat next to her. Noel sat down in the seat that Claire had saved for him! It appeared the pair were very good friends.

It suddenly dawned on Matt that Noel might not be what he appeared to be. Given Claire's overt lesbian orientation and her obviously warm feelings for Noel it might just be that Noel wasn't an effeminate boy at all. He might well be a drag king, a female to male transvestite! He smiled inwardly and quoted to himself from Alice In Wonderland. "Curioser and curioser!"

"Time to begin," Matt announced to the class and moved to the lectern. A wave and smile from Noel whose legs were crossed at the thigh, his or her elbow resting on a knee, chin on hand. Claire rested her heel on the edge of her chair. The long skirt slipped along her thigh giving Matt a view of Claire's white nylon panty crotch.

 

The talk went well and was well received. The class was clearly interested in the subject matter and what Matt had to say about it. The superficiality of many of the questions indicated that the general level of knowledge of art history wasn't very high but the enthusiasm and curiosity indicated that the student body could be easily stimulated.

One member of the group was clearly brighter and better read than the average. That just happened to be Claire with Noel running a far second. They both knew something of the antecedents of impressionism. Claire sparkled when she realized that the naturalism of Emile Zola was the literary equivalent of the impressionist art movement. When Matt agreed with her 'discovery' and pointed out that Zola had written a novel closely describing the movement, the enthusiastic Claire dutifully wrote down the title.

Matt glanced at his class sheets as he finished the talk. He realized he couldn't easily locate Claire and Noel on the long list because he had no idea of their surnames.

A large group of enthusiastic pupils stayed to ask more questions after the lecture ended and most of the group dispersed. Matt was openly pleased to see that Claire and Noel were among them. Claire and Noel half asked, half offered to walk back to Matt's office with him.

"Great. Thanks but I have to make a stop on the way." They paused at the door to the men's room. Claire walked into the ladies' but Noel joined Matt in the men's. "Well, maybe now I'll find out what Noel is really all about." thought Matt to himself.

While Matt put his papers on a sink, Noel tucked his notebook under his arm, stood at a urinal and loosed an audible stream. "Well, so much for my drag king theory," he reflected. Matt glanced over at Noel as the boy continued to urinate next to him. "Definitely male and rather healthy at that," smiled Matt.

They regrouped in the hall and continued on to Matt's office. "Why don't you two come in for a minute. It won't take me a minute to do what I have to do. I'd like to buy you two lunch. You've been so helpful and really are making me feel comfortable in town. Pick a place."

"Greatly appreciated but not at all necessary. We're kind of attracted to you and really want you to stay on. And besides we saw that that lunatic Genie was trying to claim you for her own. We just couldn't let that happen." Claire was really quite serious about how much trouble Genie could be.

"We'll take you up on lunch," smiled Noel. The cafe is really a good place to chat and get to know each other better.

"But you've got to let each of us have you in for dinner."

"No problem. I'm looking forward to it."

The cafe was crowded with summer people. Noel sneered in disapproval. Claire spoke up. "How about the pub? No bad vibrations now that Genie's no longer there. She got that thing in Boston so she's as good as gone."

"Whatever you guys want to do is fine."

They opted for the pub.

 

The American Indian hostess was on duty. Matt realized how exotically beautiful she was. She looked more relaxed than she did on his first visit.

"Welcome back, sir." He was flattered that she remembered him. "You're in good company. Good to see you two here again." She extended a hand to Claire and Noel who smiled at each other and at Matt. "Hear tell your looking for a waitress."

"Yes. Thank God that loose cannon finally left. I don't know what the boss saw in her but this is a business and not a therapy clinic. Either of you guys interested?"

"Might be," said Noel.

The hostess whose name was Taylor took our order. Lobster rolls all around. "An American Indian named Taylor! Sounds pretty assimilated." Matt observed.

"A lot less assimilated than you might guess," answered Claire.

 

They sipped pints of Bass as they nibbled their lobster rolls.

"We have a dress rehearsal for a dance program this evening. We would love you to come."

"Yes, please do," Noel added to Claire's invitation.

"Love to."

"Let me write out directions for you," offered Noel as she opened the portfolio that was notebook and briefcase for him.

Matt noticed three five by seven pictures of a rather beautiful girl. One showed her posed as a folk singer with an acoustic guitar. The other two showed her as a dancer. One was en pointe in a high cut, spaghetti strap leotard; the second showed her leaping in a classical ballet gown. There was an incredible resemblance to Noel. It could be his sister or, as Matt was starting to hope, it could be Noel!

Noel wrote out the direction using a fountain pen! His was the picture perfect writing one saw on notes or letters in the black and white movies of the forties and fifties.

It was truly rare for a boy of college age, or of almost any age, to take such pains with handwriting and yet to do it seemingly effortlessly.

Matt read the directions noting that Noel had indicated where he lived. The boy smiled as Matt's eyes paused at the spot giving the location of his home. It was an outbuilding on what was once a sizable estate. Noel, who sat with his knees together and his feet spread in a classic flirty posture, rested his elbows on his knees and put his chin on his hands. He had all but transformed into a girl, and an especially cute one, simply by changing the way he sat! "Just in case you might decide to stop by..." Noel ran his tongue over the front of his teeth as he spoke.

Matt swallowed hard. It was as if Noel were reading his mind. Despite his reluctance to get involved with someone so young with whom he could have no future, he was inexorably drawn to the slender young androgyne.

Taylor approached the table. "This is on us. Welcome to Bardwin."

Claire pressed Taylor's hand in her own. "Pick me up after the rehearsal. We need to spend some time together." Taylor looked around, pulled Claire into a tiny alcove and kissed her on the lips. "Later, lover!"

"Not likely," was the muttered response.

Matt wasn't sure who had said what and why they had said it, especially that last remark. Matt must have looked puzzled. "I'll bet you thought Claire and I were like intimate. Claire's my cousin!"

They stood in the bright sunshine outside the pub. "Why don't you swing by my house on the way to the rehearsal? You can leave your car at my place and I'll drive. See you at seven-thirty."

"Sure...Thanks. I'll be there."

 

Matt returned to his office at the school. He was glad he had been accepted into the clique of these unusual young people. Maybe not into it but certainly by them. The only "bad apple" seemed to be Genie and she was almost certainly gone. If Claire and Noel were any examples, he could look forward to bright and literate company.

He had learned a little more about them but the more he seemed to learn about the ambiguous Noel, the more he was puzzled. Well, back to putting notes together for future lectures.

 

PART FOUR

An Evening of Revelations

 

Matt walked back to Terri's house. He was comfortable there but didn't want to start thinking of it as home. A nap and then a swim in the river. He turned on the gas barbecue before going upstairs to shave and shower. A very close shave. It was as if he was hoping to feel a soft cheek against his own. But whose? Claire was probably involved with Taylor, the hostess at the pub, making it even more abundantly clear she had no interest in any 'meaningful relationship' with a man.

That left Noel. Matt had never had any problems with gay men but he was pretty sure he wasn't one himself. Sure, there was that affair in college but Randi was a full time crossdresser and more attractive than most real girls. Besides, he didn't know that Randi wasn't a gg when he got involved. And that thing with Genie Dee. She had initiated it and she, too, was unquestionably beautiful and passable. He took a deep breath pulled on his bikini underpants, cut-off jeans went downstairs and threw a hamburger on the grill. He heated some frozen spinach while the burger grilled. Soda rather than beer.

He carefully cleaned his teeth before stepping into the shower. Blue bikini underpants, chinos and a dark green golf shirt. A last shot of Listerine and it was off to meet Noel.

 

He found Noel's driveway with no trouble. There were three mailboxes at the edge of the road. "Noelle Lassitter" proclaimed one of the boxes. Matt's heart skipped a beat. The Noel he knew was unquestionably male. Perhaps the person who painted the name on the mailbox had made a mistake. The pictures in the portfolio...that was it! No, can't be. Noel was of an age when parents often gave brothers and sisters, especially twins, similar names. Still, Noel and Noelle would have been too, too much even for the most cutesy pooh families. It was a mistake, that's all.

 

Noel waved to Matt from the side door of an outbuilding. The bottom floor appeared vacant or was being used for storage. Above was an apartment with a long balcony on one side. Matt admitted to himself, as he realized he felt a twinge of disappointment, that he really was hoping to have an excuse to see Noel's apartment. He wasn't sure why but he knew he wanted to.

Matt parked the antique Mark VII next to Noel's blue MG-TD. He was pleased to see that Noel shared his enthusiasm for classic English cars. "Oh my God!" Noel shrieked with enthusiasm that could best be described as girlish. "May I touch the headlights? I have to make sure this isn't a dream car that will dissolve if I get too close."

"It's real. I promise it won't disappear. Let me drive so you can see how real it is."

"Yes! Oh my God, yes!"

Matt held open the passenger door of the large car. Noel sat down and then, keeping his knees together, swung his legs into the car as he swiveled to the front. The movement wasn't lost on Matt who had seen too many women use that way of getting into the car in order to maintain modesty while wearing a skirt. He was certain that Noel didn't always wear trousers!

Matt watched the winding road that followed the river as Noel gave directions. Matt realized that without seeing Noel speak his voice could easily be a woman's. It was a soft melodic voice, clear and resonant.

Noel leaned closer to Matt. "I just want to see the instrument panel." There was a teasing quality to Noel's voice.

"Oh, is that all?"

"Disappointed are we?" Noel's giggle was incredibly feminine and incredibly alluring.

"Yes." Matt was startled by the spontaneity and the openness of his own response. At that moment he decided to relax, give up his few remaining inhibitions and see where this went.

"I hope you have time to see my place on the way back. I've got some wonderful pastries. They would go so well with espresso and some anisette or Drambuie. Please say you'll stop for a bit."

Noel leaned closer and kissed his cheek. Matt's cock stirred.

 

Matt's heart was pounding in his chest as they entered the school auditorium. The dance festival was to include numbers ranging from classical and modern dance to folk interpretations. Noel spoke briefly with the woman who seemed to be in charge.

"Great news. My classes are going due to go on first. We won't have to be here all night. And stop looking so puzzled. I teach the classes."

Noel gathered ten or twelve pre-teens around him. He gave some serious but not stern admonitions to them. The girls wore classic leotards, white seamed tights and flowing wrap skirts. The three or four boys wore black tights and what appeared to be white tank tops.

The run through of a set of dances choreographed to the Paris Waltzes from Leonard Bernstein's "Candide" were original and enchanting. A couple of the parents who had escorted their offspring were ecstatic. "You're a friend of Noel. He and Claire are just so talented. We're summer people here and our kids just love the dance workshops they give. Lessons back in the city are a waste to time compared to what they get from Noel...Oh, and from Claire." Seemed Claire was easily upstaged by Noel.

Noel applauded his pupils and kissed the girls on the cheeks and patted the boys on their shoulders. He graciously accepted the accolades of the parents. Matt was introduced to the satisfaction of all.

"Noel, we really want to have a special barbecue and picnic to celebrate your thirtieth. The kids will be so disappointed if you don't let them do this for you even though your birthday isn't until after Labor Day."

"Really, I'm fine with that. It'll be great fun."

"And be sure to bring Dr. Loren," added the mother as she cast an almost hungry eye on Matt.

They walked back to the car. "Thirtieth?" Matt was incredulous. "I could have sworn you were barely twenty."

"Don't rub it in. I'm carded all the time. I look even younger en..."

There was an awkward pause, almost as if Noel had started to say more than he intended. Matt was aware of the pause and was about to say "You were saying," but thought better of it. He changed the subject. "I hope you really want me to come to that barbecue or whatever it'll be."

"Oh God, yes. I'll need some support. Claire'll be there. I'm not so sure Taylor will be with her. Those two are an on and off item. Just too intense." Noel continued in the same vein as Matt held the car door open. It was as if he had started to think of Noel as a girl!

Matt slid into the driver's seat. Noel rested his fingers on Matt's wrist. Don't forget you're stopping at my place."

"Try to keep me away."

Noel's hand dropped onto the driver's seat and rested against Matt's thigh. As the car pulled onto the river road Noel's rested, for a brief moment, on Matt's shoulder. Matt wasn't sure whether that was a deliberate move or the force of the turn had thrown this fascinating being against him.

 

"Weird, isn't it?" commented Noel as he saw Matt glance at the mailbox.

A full moon was rising as they stepped out of the car. Noel extended his hand to guide Matt to the stairs. Matt accepted the hand as if he were reaching for the hand of a lover. Noel's hand was soft and smooth yet strong. Matt swallowed hard.

"Regular coffee or espresso?" asked Noel from the kitchen as Matt surveyed the neat, comfortable dining area. Like Noel, the well furnished apartment was non-committal as to the sex of the occupant. "Regular would be fine."

Noel took some dishes and cups from the cabinets as the coffee heated. Again bending at the waist, Noel took two cordial glasses from under a counter. Again Matt noticed the panty lines.

"You can start now," Noel announced as he placed a bottle of Drambuie on the table. "Be a dear and set the table while I change. I guess here's where I'm supposed say into 'something more comfortable.' But Matt this isn't a French bedroom farce." Noel's voice was solemn. "Promise me you'll remember that." Than as suddenly as Noel had become serious, his voice sparkled. "There's going to be a surprise for you!"

Noel started to undo his belt as he walked through the bedroom door. He started to lower his trousers exposing an adorable tush highlighted by the glistening skin tight, stretch nylon panties. He hesitated for a second or two and then closed the door.

Matt set the table with the plates, cups, saucers, flatware and napkins Noel had put on the counter. He debated whether to set the two places facing across the table so he could look at Noel while he tried to figure him out and to sort out the attraction this unique being held for him or to set the places at a corner so he could reach for Noel's hand if the opportunity presented itself. He realized that breakfast table in the kitchen was small enough for them to face each other and still touch. Quandary resolved.

The bedroom door opened. Matt turned to see the silhouette of Noel sidelighted in the doorway. Noel stood with elbows bent, his hands turned up, palms resting against the door frame. His hips were slightly tilted emphasizing the surprisingly and pleasingly feminine contours.

Noel's not very long hair had been brushed into a pixie style. He wore a stretch tank top that skimmed his fair skin made more beautiful by a lightly golden tan. Clingy fabric drew attention to his tiny waist. Loose cotton shorts of an even whiter hue rode low on his hips. Noel slowly extended an impeccable leg. Flat sandals were held to his feet by thin thongs tied above the ankle. Clear nail polish emphasized the toes which were as flawlessly attractive as everything else about this puzzling sprite.

Noel reached for a scarf that was draped over one shoulder and tied it around her waist. The movement called attention to her breasts which weren't really breasts at all but rather just puffy nipples surrounded by the slightest swell of flesh. A smile crossed the corners of Noel's mouth. The slightest hint of lipstick.

"Meet Noelle, N-o-e-l-l-e. Surprised? I can see you are. I would love to tell you this is the real me. Still not quite a girl but not a boy either.

"Matt, you're so, so special. I just had to be open with you. Please stay for coffee even if you're revolted by what you see..."

"No, never. How in God's name could I be revolted by such beauty, grace, elegance beyond words?"

The tension flowed from Noelle as she visibly relaxed. She took Matt by the hand and led him to the living room. "Turn on that lamp, please Matt."

Noelle sat at the spinet piano. "Not great sound. Never great sound in a spinet. A parlor grand or even a baby grand would be silly in here. Wish I had space for one though." She began to play.

" 'Jimbo's Lullaby'!...I love Debussy."

"Me too, but I guess you can tell that."

Matt applauded her. Noelle nodded in acknowledgment. "Golliwog's Cakewalk," she announced playfully. "Although I'm sure you're familiar with it."

Noelle's technique was astounding. Matt wondered why she wasn't pursuing a career in music. Then it struck him that even in a field that was accepting of gays, someone as androgynous as this talented beauty would be considered a freak! How awful for Noel or Noelle. His eyes were filling with tears of adoration.

"Like Ravel?" Noelle's voice was radiating a quiet enthusiasm.

"Of course." The gigue form "Le Tombeau Couperin." A few beats of silence after finishing and then "Pavanne Pour Une Infante Defunte." (Pavanne For A Dead Princess) The somber beauty of that piece overwhelmed them both. Noelle turned on the piano bench as Matt rose and walked toward her. He held her hands in his and smiled at her.

"Remember what I said earlier?" She looked up at him with love and sadness. Matt nodded at her.

"This isn't a French bedroom farce. I promise I'll never let it become one."

Noelle rose to her feet, stood on tiptoe and kissed Matt gently, meaningfully on the lips.

"Time for coffee and dessert."

It started as an awkward silence as Noelle poured the coffee. "Not having to gab away is a really good sign," whispered Noelle as she passed in back of Matt. She rested her hand on his shoulder. He brought it to his mouth and kissed the palm. The silence now radiated warm and relaxed affection.

Noelle put out a platter of pastries.

"You're a mind reader. Must be to choose all my favorites. There was this little Italian bakery in Brooklyn when I was a kid in high school..."

That was the beginning. They opened up to each other, sharing reminiscences of their formative years.

"Matt, I want so very much for you to stay the night.."

Matt nodded with wistful smile.

"I know you want to stay but that would be our hearts' talking. We have to do this slowly, carefully. We can't wake up tomorrow, a week from now, or a month from now feeling guilty and calling what happened between us a momentary aberration... I couldn't go on."

Matt pressed her palm to his lips as she stood before him.

"We're both romantics. Let's slowly seduce each other so we're sure. Then, no matter what happens, no matter what comes of it, we'll have a beautiful memory of a great affair to carry us through." She looked down at Matt, her eyes wondering, hoping. "Okay?"

Matt stood up, kissed the tears from Noelle's cheeks and, with his arm around her waist, walked to the door.

"I'll call you to say good-night as soon as I get home."

"And I'll call to wake you in the morning."

 

Matt sat in bed as he dialed Noelle's number. She picked up on the first ring. Ninety minutes later they started to describe how they would kiss each other good night. Matt fantasized as they talked. He pictured Noelle curled like a cat on the sheets. She wore white tanktop undervest with a tiny pink rose at neckline. Her green panties were cotton. She stretched forward like a cat awaking from its nap. She kissed his face lightly, her lips like butterflies as they moved over his nose, his eyes. Matt was fully erect as the conversation ended yet they had never talked about sexual matters other than the tantalizingly innocent goodnight kisses. It was ten forty-five.

 

PART FIVE

Cloudy Morning, Rainy Day

 

Matt reached for the alarm clock and then realized it was the phone that had awakened him.

"Good morning, love." He smiled on hearing Noelle's greeting.

"Thank God it's you. N-o-e-l-l-e now?"

"Now and whenever you need me to be."

"Even if it's forever?"

"Especially if it's forever."

"I hope it will be a long forever. Forever sometimes has a short run ." He winced as he thought of Mavis.

"Matt, please don't say that. You can have my 'forever' as long as you want."

Noelle's tone had changed. She seemed frightened and unsure. Matt was certain that his remark about forever having a short run had upset Noelle. "Star member of the 'foot in the mouth club' is what I am," he thought.

"Lunch today," he offered.

"Sorry. I'll take a raincheck. I haven't been feeling well for a while. Claire is kidnapping me to see a doctor in Portland. They want me to go to Boston for some tests.

It didn't bother me until last night. Now I'm scared.

"No, you didn't hear that. I'm not scared of the tests..."

"Go on. What is it you're afraid of?"

"Losing you even before I'm sure I want you, silly. Bye."

Matt sat on the deck with his coffee and toast. He sipped the black coffee. Low dark clouds scudded in from the west. A light rain fell on and off. The tone Noelle used was dismissive and hurtful. One more lesson.

He realized that he was still rebounding from Mavis. Was he trying to recapture the forbidden thrill of his long ago affair with Randi? It could be that Noelle was just another version of Genie Dee, that the seemingly wonderful purity and wholesomeness were just as unreal and as much illusion as Genie's madness driven spiteful hostility.

Claire was the one who first attracted him. Noelle had insinuated herself between him and Claire just as they were getting acquainted. But Claire was overtly gay, a fact which meant any relationship between her and Matt would have to remain Platonic at best...or at worst.

"Jesus, you asshole," Matt swore at himself. "You just got here. There are tons of people still to meet. Wait until the fall when the whole academic community settles in. Why are you so damned quick to jump into strange relationships? The might even be some normal folks around. Yeah, I'll bide my time."

Once dressed, he decided to drive to work considering the weather.

The first part of the morning was devoted to meeting with new students and counseling them on art department course selections based on their interests and education. He recognized a few of them from his talk of yesterday. They were brighter and better informed than he had thought. Then it occurred to him that whenever any of these kids started to say something during the lecture, Noel had deftly spoken up and overshadowed the younger students. He was pleased that Noelle had put him off. Perspective is a good thing.

There was a break at about ten and a scheduled course to teach at ten-thirty. Matt went over his notes and assembled his slides as he drank some black coffee. His thoughts turned to Claire. "Interesting but unattainable." A department secretary interrupted his thoughts as she dropped some mail on his desk.

"I must make it my business to show you where everything is. You really should check your mail box...Not that I mind bringing you your mail." She smiled flirtatiously as she sat against the edge his desk, one thigh resting on the surface. "Can I buy you lunch?" she asked. "No strings attached. Just want to welcome you."

"Thanks," Matt smiled. "Sure. It'll be nice to get into some reality for a change."

 

The class went well; a survey of art history from the caves at Lescaux to the cubists, the futurists, and so on. The emphasis was on painting. The were eighteen earnest college students. Some were taking advantage of a summer job that allowed them to get a few credits out of the way but most were Bardwin coeds whose families had summer places in easy reach. Matt projected his own excitement at having discovered the world of art in a way that was infectious and motivated even the most sceptical and reluctant students. Terri, as was so often the case, was right in having suggested he try the academic life.

Motivating the class was almost too much of a success. A coterie of excited girls and boys had stayed after to ask for reading suggestions and to pass the time with what they saw as the rather sophisticated and worldly art expert. Matt was almost fifteen minters late in meeting his 'date' in the department office.

"I hope you won't complain if the work you give me is this late." Her stern expression melted into a smile as the corners of her pretty mouth turned up slowly. Matt glanced down at the nameplate on her desk. Either he had forgotten it or Georgina Tournet had never introduced herself.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Have been for ages...It's pronounced Tor-nay."

"Pardon?"

"My name. I noticed you looking at my name plate."

"I'll drive since you invited me."

Matt watched the shapely, conservatively dressed woman get into his car. She assumed the same posture, used the same movements that Noelle had used. Somehow it seemed more natural and more unaffected when Noelle, still in drab boy's clothing, did it. They had a leisurely lunch in a "Down East" inn a few miles outside of town. Georgina seemed to know a lot about him. He tried to get her to talk about herself. She avoided eye contact and stared into her wine glass as she nervously twisted her fingers.

"I'm married, girl fourteen and a boy finishing high school this coming year. My husband and I separated recently. He still comes around to see the kids. God, he terrifies me.

"I always thought I was staying with him for the sake of the children. Then I went back to work for Terri. She put me in touch with a support group and I realized that it would be in the children's best interest for us to separate. Not to mention my sanity."

"Brave lady."

"Not really. I would love to find a job in Boston and take my kids there with me. Need to get away from that vindictive bastard before he hurts me or the kids."

Matt looked at this gentle, competent and fearful woman with sympathy. "Well another would be dating prospect shot to hell. I can't be her therapist," he thought.

"Maybe I can help you find a way to escape. There might be a women's network that could help you disappear and start again somewhere." He tried not to sound world-weary by overly suppressing the anger and indignation he felt for this woman's sake.

She nodded as she looked at her fingers.

"Really, Matt, I'm so sorry. I didn't invite you out to burden you with my needs. I was hoping that I could be an ordinary woman and socialize with a man without falling apart."

He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face toward him. "You're doing fine. You just need a change of scene. Terri and I will see to that."

She clutched his arm as they left the inn as if she were clinging to a life preserver.

A peck on the lips as Matt started the car. "Thanks for being my friend. Guess that's more important right now for me than having you as my date or ...my lover."

 

"Dr. Loren speaking...Terri, great to hear your voice!"

"Keeping busy, are you?"

"Rather. You were right about my taking to the teaching part. Let me sound you out on some people here. First tell me how things are going with that grad student."

"Small world story with that one. You two met by chance for a few minutes in Cambridge. Remember Sara Ann Lev?"

"Damn, Terri. I envy you on that one."

"Don't envy me just yet. Tell me how you're settling in."

"Well, my instincts guided me right to some very unusual people. Fascinating though.. Genie Dee was the first but she seems to be leaving town.

"I had lunch with Georgina Tournet. She was my hope of finding reality, normalcy, whatever. Bad try. She needs to get away from here and soon."

Matt spelled out the details of Georgina's plight. Terri agreed to make some calls and set up a move.

"Say nothing to anyone, not even to Georgina. This has to be an all at once deal."

"Will do. Tell me about Genie. She was so beautiful and so angry."

"That'll keep until I see you. Now that she's leaving or has left town it's of no immediate consequence. I've got to start setting up something for Georgina. Just keep it to yourself.

"We really have to talk...face to face. You're going to be so great at teaching."

"Somehow I think you know me better than I know myself. You've been my best friend for so long now."

"Thanks a lump. Sure, remind me how old I am....Matt, I'll see you soon. Love you."

Matt leaned back in the swivel chair and pivoted to face the window. He felt badly that lunch with a down to earth, straight woman had turned the way it had but he felt even worse for Georgina and for her kids. He could empathize with their predicament. His abusive step-father and judgmental mother had all but overwhelmed him. He managed to land on his feet but that was then and New York City was an easy place to lose your sorrows in the unreal but better world of art and music. He had been saved in large part by his strange friendship with Terri Cohen. It seemed Terri was still saving people. Matt smiled and turned back to his desk and the lecture notes he was working on.

He wrote for almost two hours without realizing the time. The IBM Selectric hummed softly as Matt listened to the rain strike the windows while he read what he had typed. "Come in," he said in response to a soft tap at the door. "I'm going home in a few minutes. Let me know if there's any thing you need before I leave."

"Nothing. Thanks for asking, Mrs. Tournet. And thanks for lunch."

"Please call me Georgie. All my friends do. I should be the one thanking you for listening to me dump my stuff on you." She leaned across the desk and kissed Matt on the lips. She turned and walked out as Matt savored the moistness that remained on his lips. The kiss was chaste but savored of hope and promise.

Matt was attracted to the everyday prettiness of Georgie Tournet but his code of ethics would not allow him to become involved, to take advantage of a woman whose feeling for him was driven by the desperation of her personal situation. He reflected that this outwardly placid woman was leading one of those lives of quiet desperation that Thoreau has spoken of. His insights into Georgie and her suffering did nothing to improve his opinion of the middle class and its smug, hypocritical morality which allowed them condemn Terri, Noelle, Claire, even the angry Genie Dee, and himself simply because their lifestyles didn't fit the distorting, crushing mold that these smug hypocrites had allowed to warp them. They would be more than willing to condemn Georgie if she left her husband. It was they who were the sickies and not those who broke free.

The wind was picking up. They were in for a northeaster. Matt packed a few files folders into his portfolio, turned off the lights and left the office. He threw his portfolio onto the passenger seat of the Jag and paused. He went back to the office to see if he could find Georgie Tournet's home phone number. Georgie's admonition of the morning prompted him to check his mailbox. In with the typed class rosters was sheet of paper from a steno pad folded over and sealed with a bit of tape. It was a phone number with a brief note: "Sorry to impose on you again but I would feel so much better if you called to check on me this evening. Thanks again. Georgie"

The small, neat handwriting spoke of a proper but very repressed girl inside the frightened woman. The dot over the 'I' was a circle that looked like it started out to be the heart that girls entering their teens so often affect. He shook his head in disbelief at the whole situation.

He drove directly home. He needed to be by himself.

A warm shower and then to the kitchen. He selected a bottle of sauvignon blanc and put it in the fridge to chill as he took out three eggs and began chopping some herbs. Scrambled eggs flavored with fresh herbs he thought as the butter melted in the pan. He ate his omelet and sipped the wine as he read the paper. After washing the bowl, the pan and his plate, Matt took the wine glass and bottle up to his room. He sat at the alcove desk listening to a Portland classical music station and doing the crossword puzzle. He looked at Mavis's picture. "We could've gotten it right. Stupid thing you went and did. Now we can never fix anything." He thought of Robert Frost's "Birches"... "Earth's the right place for love. I can't think of where it's likely to go better..."

He went downstairs and turned on the outside flood lights that illuminated the back garden all the way down to the river. Back at his desk, he watched the windblown sheets of rain stir the river. He looked at the note Georgie Tournet had written and wondered if her affectation of writing like a young teenager was an attempt to start her life over again. She picked up on the second ring. Her "Hello" was tentative as if she anticipated a call she didn't want.

"Georgie, Matt here."

"Oh, Matt." Her voice suggested gladness and relief. "You really did call. You don't know how many times I took that note out of your mail box. I was even hoping you wouldn't check your box."

"But why?"

"I'm so afraid I'm imposing on you...and..."

"Just let it go. No reason to let a decent soul suffer."

"Matt, you know so little about me..."

"I had to know you're safe."

"Thanks for caring. Look, we can't talk now. If he calls to see if the kids are in and safe, he'll be furious if he gets a busy signal."

"Can I call you later?"

"Sure, assuming the lines don't go down in the storm. Until then."

"Wait. Don't hangup. I need to know where you live so I can get to you if..."

She had already hung up. The lights flickered but stayed on.

 

Matt poured the last of the wine into the glass. He wondered if Noel and Claire had made it back from Portland before the storm hit. It was Noel for the moment. After all, it was unlikely that he would see a new medical specialist in the persona of Noelle. He mused over Noelle and Claire. No doubt Noelle fascinated him but there was something manipulative, passive-aggressive, even controlling about her. He knew had no business obsessing over Claire. She was unabashedly gay. The fact that she was warm and friendly toward Matt didn't alter that one iota.

He tried Georgie's number. No answer. A call to the operator told him that many lines were down. He resigned himself to the fact that he would be unable to contact her until at least the morning.

 

Matt opened the paperback bestseller he had bought at the newsstand earlier that day. He was absorbed by it after only a few pages. He noticed the clock as he reached for to answer the phone. He had been reading or over an hour. His mood brightened when he heard Claire's voice.

"Claire, have you made it home okay?"

"Yes and thanks for being concerned. I don't why I'm calling you but, Matt, I need someone to listen."

"Sure. What's up?" He noticed the storm was abating.

"Can I see you in your office first thing in the morning?"

"What time is first thing?"

"Don't know. I just need to talk to someone. No, that's not quite what I mean. I need to talk to you...Well there are some things I need to talk about to a friendly ear ...And there are some things I need to talk to you about. I mean you as Matt, not as anyone else."

"How about breakfast in the faculty dining room and then we can go to the office? Seven o'clock."

"See you at seven. And thanks."

The rain lessened as the moon pushed its light through gaps in the clouds. It was possibly the shortest northeaster in years.

A shower, a cup of coffee, and then sleep.

 

(continued)

  

  

  

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